


Get That Ice or Else No Dice

by IncandescentAntelope



Series: Historical AUs [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Alternate Universe - Regency, Burlesque, Dressing Room Sex, Felching, M/M, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Rimming, Smoking, Smut, a vaguely Moulin Rouge-inspired au by someone who hasn’t seen the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is an alpha of good breeding, but being dragged to a burlesque club has him seriously rethinking his good manners; Viktor Nikiforov, an omega known as Snow, spots an easy target in his throng of admirers.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Historical AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731136
Comments: 28
Kudos: 164





	Get That Ice or Else No Dice

**Author's Note:**

> i am very aware that this is hardly regency appropriate behavior, burlesques weren't really like this in 1850, thongs weren't invented until 1970 and all that jazz. but they're horny and so am I so. no further questions, your honor >:'D 
> 
> thank you to my beta readers! Title lifted from Sparkling Diamonds from Moulin Rouge!  
> [Viktor’s outfits](https://imgur.com/a/0jpuoQg)

“Ticket fee’s one-fifty,” the man at the door said, and Phichit dropped a five dollar note into his hand, winking and telling him to keep the change. It was an extravagant sum to pay for this, Yuuri thought as Phichit pulled him through the red door, marking the establishment as a pleasure club of sorts. He had never been through the red light district on the east end of town, and Phichit had been begging him to do so.

“Yuuri, please,” Phichit whined, peering at Yuuri from across the sitting room in their dormitory. “My birthday was last weekend and I’m demanding we go.”

Phichit’s lower lip was puffed out the way a child might, and Yuuri knew none of his usual arguments would survive Phichit’s scrutiny, nor his petulance.

“Fine,” Yuuri huffed, exasperated, rolling his eyes. “But all of his will be on _your_ dime, and if Doctor Cialdini finds out, you’ll be taking all of the blame for ruining my perfect record.”

And so, Yuuri found himself in a smoky, albeit upscale club, plush armchairs scattered around a small stage, draped with thick, red velvet curtains hiding whatever scintillating pleasures Phichit had dragged Yuuri into. It was much more… well-tended than Yuuri had expected. He had heard tales of dingy, backdoor clubs with peeling paint and poorly maintained furniture, where your coin was just as likely stolen as it was spent.

He was more than pleased to have such a terrible stereotype disproven, though there was a notably unpleasant odor in the room. The gamy odor of arousal and a thick haze of pheromones lingered in the air. Yuuri might have been able to put off the scent if he didn’t spend so much time away from other alphas; the school he and Phichit attended was one of very few to accept students of all secondary genders, and thus, had many more beta and omega students than a normal university. Yuuri’s nose had almost become accustomed to the lack of commanding alpha scent.

Yuuri himself was quite an unusual alpha, and he had been told as much by his parents, childhood friends, even Phichit, a beta, had noticed the difference in Yuuri’s temperament compared to the alphas that fulfilled the stereotype. Yuuri was bookish and scholarly, keeping to himself more often than not. He managed his twice-yearly season alone, never foisting the duty of sharing it on another, even when he was involved in short-lived flings.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” A man to Yuuri’s right asked, and Yuuri nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the man. He was dressed in a very small outfit, wearing little more than a thin, lacy shift that barely concealed the outlines of his chest and waist. Yuuri could see the press of what appeared to be pierced nipples through his dress. There was so much thigh on display that Yuuri felt the urge to politely look away, if only to preserve the man’s modesty.

“He’ll take a whiskey neat, and I’ll have some brandy.” Phichit stepped in, assisting Yuuri out of his catatonic ogling. “Thank you, dear.” The blonde man laughed softly, winking as he turned back toward the bar. “If I had known you’d forget every social platitude I would have ventured out on my own, Yuuri.” Phichit teased under his breath, pulling Yuuri toward the front of the room and plopping him down in an overstuffed seat just in front of the curtained stage.

Here, the scent of alpha wasn’t so thick, and he could smell something a bit lighter, like cherry licorice, like roses and champagne… and a light drifting of cigarette smoke. Yuuri smiled politely when the blonde man returned to them, their drinks in crystal lowball glasses and a pair of hand-wrapped cigarettes resting in a crystal ashtray. It felt heavy in Yuuri’s hand.

The man flicked a match to life as Phichit lifted one of the cigarettes to his lips, encouraging Yuuri to do the same. The flavor was unlike the cheap, backalley things that Phichit had pilfered their first year and insisted they share. It was sweet, light on his tongue.

Yuuri blew out the first puff with a pleasant hum, for once, not coughing on the smoke. The waiter turned to Phichit, winking again, leaning down and pressing a crimson lipstick-ed kiss to his cheek, leaving a bright mark behind.

“Do you know him?” Yuuri asked in a whisper after the man disappeared again, and Phichit shrugged.

“No, but I sure would like to.” Phichit replied with a goofy grin, reverently touching the mark on his cheek. “Now hush up and enjoy your drink, Snow is on tonight, I think you’ll enjoy the show.”

“What?” Yuuri’s brow furrowed at the statement, it was early May in the city, there wouldn’t be snow again until late October. It took a moment for Yuuri to understand that he had said _Snow_ , a proper noun. A pseudonym, a stage name. “Oh. _Oh_.”

Phichit laughed behind his hand and sipped his drink with a smirk. “You’ll enjoy it. Just don’t let your glasses fog up with the heat, yeah?” Yuuri swallowed thickly and took a small mouthful of his drink, knocking the ash off the end of his cigarette. An otherwise unnoticed band began to play, something low and smooth Yuuri hadn’t heard before. Not that he was much of a musician himself, often too busy studying for exams to spend any time in bars or concert halls.

Phichit elbowed him playfully as the dull click of shoes could be heard, muffled behind the curtain in front of them. With a quick check of his pocketwatch, Phichit nodded.

“Five minutes past,” he whispered, “As always.”

There was a hushed whispering beyond the curtain, and Yuuri felt himself growing even more curious, despite the discomfort in his stomach at being in such an establishment. He was abroad, learning medicine to become a doctor, and Phichit had dragged him into a pleasure club for a…

His jaw dropped as the curtain began to rise. The sight that met him confirmed every thought that had passed through his mind up to that point. It was a burlesque show.

Yuuri’s mouth ran dry as he spotted a pair of irresponsibly high heeled shoes wrapped around delicate ankles and crossed one over the other. His heart rammed into his throat as he followed the long lines of exposed legs, slim and pale as milk, to the silky draping of a silvery, lacy dress pooling around the most impossibly beautiful man Yuuri had ever seen.

The man was lying recumbent on a plush cushion of velvet, covering an ornately carved chaise lounge in the middle of the stage. The man had a long rope of silver hair, braided in a winding manner that weaved into and around itself seemingly endlessly, and half of his face was covered by a long, low sweep of silver fringe. The eye Yuuri was able to see was bright blue, and piercingly so, contrasted with a dark ring of kohl on his eyelid.

His lips, _oh, god_ , his lips. Yuuri was thinking horribly obscene things about those lips, so full and painted a bloody crimson red. He looked like an incubus, his lips stained red by the blood of the last victim he had lured into bed with such sultry wiles. Yuuri knew his hand was shaking as he lifted the glass to his lips again, taking too large a sip at once.

* * *

Viktor saw him, all the marks of a green man, never once having set foot in such an establishment as this. His eyes were wide, an eager puppy just waiting to lap at the feast laid out for him to see, but not enjoy. Viktor _loved_ seducing these men, they were almost too eager to be separated from their pocketbooks, and Viktor was a master of loosening moneybelts.

After the curtain had risen fully, and the masses had been gawking long enough, Viktor pulled himself up from his elegantly draped position, bringing his knee up to his chest. His dress slipped further up his thigh, revealing even more of his flesh to the salivating alphas in the room. If there was a more powerful role for an omega like Viktor to take than this one, he hardly knew what it might be.

“Good evening, everyone,” Viktor purred to his appreciators, blinking long, silvery lashes at them in a play of flirtation. “How are we all doing tonight?” His question was met with a smattering of wolf-whistles and other various compliments; an alpha woman near the back raised her glass in Viktor’s direction, cheering, _‘better now that you’re here, sweetheart!’_ , and Viktor tossed her back a blown kiss and a wink.

Viktor turned his attention to the two young men in the front, the one Christophe had mentioned was his, and the man beside him, with spectacles and stars in his eyes. His lips were artfully wrapped around the end of his cigarette, and oh, how pretty those pink lips looked. He was young, and likely wouldn’t be too upset about leaving with his purse a bit lighter.

Viktor winked at the man, whose blush was as adorable as it was telling; he rolled his shoulders and the thin strap of his shift slipped off his shoulder, and though minimal skin was revealed, the sight aways drew gasps from the crowd. He was wearing long gloves concealing his hands, but he was utterly bare everywhere else that mattered. His sex was, of course, covered, though he could hardly say the same of his rear; barely a string between his cheeks and around his waist held a thin scrap of material over his front.

Viktor rolled his shoulders again, and the second strap shuddered over the cap of his shoulder, the dress beginning to fall below the lines of his clavicles, jutting and smooth under his pale skin. There were a few more whistles, a few hoots from the back as Viktor arched his back, his braid swinging behind him. He pressed his barely-covered chest into the air, his nipples pert through the thin, lacy fabric of his dress, the gold embroidery caught the focused beams of light aimed at the stage perfectly.

His lips parted in the silent echo of what would more than likely be seen as a moan of ecstasy, his eyes fluttered shut in the imitation of it, though Viktor himself had not felt such a pleasure in a long time. After years of learning to hone its mockery, he could hardly find a partner to show him differently; every man to warm his bed only testified to Viktor’s proficiency in acting the part of an omega in bliss.

Even his heats were hardly pleasurable events, more often than not a horrendous torture of abdominal cramping and endless leaking, ruining bedsheets and scaring away partners. Viktor had taken to the company of heat aides instead, carved, wooden things, blown glass phalluses, anything but their flesh and blood corollary.

And so, Viktor continued his drama of pleasure. As he scissored his legs in the air, his dress pooled around his ribcage, and from the angle of the crowd, permitting they ignored the thin strap holding his underthings in place, he now gave the impression of a man completely nude, an omega waiting to be happened upon, waiting to be plundered.

The role omegas were forced to play made Viktor sick some nights, but on nights like tonight, he lavished in the attention, on the hungry eyes slaking over his every feature, the unknown territory between his legs, the unmarked skin at his throat. He wore thin, lacy collars every night to flaunt his availability, though not a single patron would be given the chance to change that status.

He certainly wouldn’t mind giving the cute man with the glasses the opportunity, though.

Viktor rolled himself onto his front, kicking his heels back and forth, the cool leather of them hitting his rear and making it bounce lewdly, the way it might were someone striking it with a hand, or another appendage. When he rolled himself onto his knees he loosened the ribbon tying his hair, and the artfully crafted braiding fell apart flawlessly. A cascade of silver fell over his back as he bent himself backward, his dress falling even further up his chest, the flimsy shift finally rippling to the ground in a nearly invisible movement of Viktor’s wrist.

Finally, he was wholly bare, and _oh,_ how the alpha presence in the room shifted. It was typical, that the knot-headed in the club would begin to lay their claim to Viktor, scent spilling over one another in a desperate dance to reach Viktor’s nose. He laughed and continued with his routine, slowly pulling himself upright and playing the shocked omega caught in the act of disrobing.

He covered his chest with one hand and clapped his thighs together, though nothing between his legs would be seen by the audience.

“Oh my… so many people wanting to see me undressed…” Viktor cooed, his voice silky and sweet, slippery and saccharine. “You’re all a lot of lechers and scoundrels.” He insulted, though the word landed more as a playful tease than anything else, even earning a few chuckles. “We’re all scoundrels here, aren’t we darlings?” he asked, and a roar of agreement met his ears.

He threw his head back in a laugh and let his arms drop, spreading his thighs lewdly on the chaise and running a hand down the center of his chest. His eyes drifted to the front row again, indescribably pleased to see the bespectacled man in the front crossing his legs. He was gripping his glass _just_ too tightly, his fist trembling slightly.

Oh, he would certainly do.

Viktor laughed heartily and continued through his routine, smoothing long, gloved fingers over his spread thighs, hovering scant centimeters from his groin; Viktor watched as the gathered audience salivated over him, palming at himself without touching. He knew there were many in the crowd aching to touch him instead, but his mind kept fading back to the poor green boy in the front.

He had been watching with such rapt attention, his eyes wide and dark with lust… Viktor felt drunk on the attention, in a way that he usually as not. He felt as if he could dance and writhe on the chaise all night, if those dark eyes continued to watch.

The band played the last few notes of Viktor’s song and he took his final pose, his thighs spread wide and his head tipped back, baring his uncollared throat to the masses. He uncoiled himself from the position after the curtain had fallen, plunging him in darkness.

Christophe met him, already changed into his own outfit for his routine, the mockery of a dinner suit with wide gashes cut out of it, showing off wide swaths of flesh between the dark material. His routine always brought in big spenders, though Viktor knew he was only trying to vie for one man’s attention. He laughed softly.

“Very well done tonight, Snow,” Christophe remarked playfully, helping him carry the sofa off the stage and pulled his single chair to the center. “Dancing for anyone in particular?” he asked, waggling those meticulously sculpted brows suggestively.

Viktor felt himself flush in an unfamiliar way. “Of course, for all the alphas seeking a submissive omega slut.” he retorted, the twisted sense of humor he and his fellow performers had taken on jumping out with the insult. Christophe laughed.

“Ah, and what am I to them? Competition?” He teased, vaguely reminding Viktor that Chris was, indeed, an alpha. It rarely came up in conversation, though Viktor remembered how many times his best friend had offered to assist him through his heats, knowing Viktor’s instinctive need for an alpha cock and knot to have a satisfying season.

“Mm, nonsense,” Viktor waved him off, hurrying to the dressing room to change into his second outfit for the evening. “There are those in the audience seeking alpha companionship, I’m sure.” He added with a wink tossed over his shoulder.

Christophe waved him off and took his position, turned away from the audience, his legs splayed on either side of the high-backed wooden chair. Viktor had very little time to change, and thus hurried to find the feathery ensemble; Georgi had to assist him in lacing the corset up, tightening it comfortably around his stomach to pull his waist in. Viktor utterly loved the sensation of the corset wrapped around him, snug and tight against his skin. The feathered skirt of the scandalously short dress ruffled as he turned, the material shuddering like it was an extension of his own body; as if he was a bird with tail feathers of his own.

He couldn’t help but admire the way it looked on him, the black such a tantalizing contrast against his pale skin, the leather so soft to the touch and yet so sensual on presentation. He quickly pinned the upper half of his hair up with the faux black rose pins he had inherited from another dancer, the rest of it cascading in a fine sheet over his shoulders. With one last glimpse at himself in the mirror, he made his way out onto the floor, covering Christophe’s waiting duties while he danced.

His skirt ruffled with every step, and with the added advantage of the heels, Viktor felt every bit as alluring and sensual as he surely looked. He met with Mila and picked up a tray of drinks, carrying it on his hip to a group of rowdy men in the back, who whistled low and slow at the sight of him approaching. What little cleavage Viktor had, being a male, was made so much clearer by the corset, pushing the soft muscle of his naturally toned chest into the imitation of a female bosom.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, darling,” one of the men replied as Viktor passed him his glass of scotch. “You were delicious up there, I loved your shy little omega routine.”

Viktor laughed jovially as he finished handing out the drinks. “Why thank you, sweetheart, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. Is there anything else I can offer you?” he asked, knowing the reply would be some manner of crude.

“Mmm, my rut’s coming up, are you available for hire?” one of the other men replied, and was thankfully elbowed swiftly by a tablemate.

“Oh, sugar, I’m only a dancer. I appreciate the offer though,” Viktor cooed, making sure his ass shook with every step as he walked away. It was far from the first of that type of offer, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Viktor picked up another tray full of drinks, among them a whiskey and a brandy for the pair at the front. Viktor licked his lips and hurried to the other tables, dropping strong liquor on his way to the front, where that bespectacled man was admiring his fingernails.

The man at his side was gripping tightly at the armrests of his seat, a noticeable bulge in his trousers, though Viktor’s attention was thoroughly honed on the man beside him. He plucked the empty glass from his hand and offered a full one in its place.

“On the house, darling,” Viktor heard himself saying before remembering his manners. The man simply seemed to pull it out of him.

“Oh, no, please,” Yuuri replied, confused, as he turned to the waiter and nearly fell out of his seat. It was him. It was Snow. “I… oh, oh my goodness, I apologize, that was incredibly rude of me.” Yuuri began to babble, unable to look away from the sight of the man in a corset.

“Pay it no mind, sweetheart.” Viktor replied, winking and forcing himself to keep from falling into the man’s lap. Sure, etiquette was loosened around here, but he wasn’t some fawning omega to sprawl himself over a random man’s lap simply because he was attractive. “Have you been here before?”

Yuuri cleared his throat, the smoke from his long-extinguished cigarette suddenly clinging to his tongue and keeping him from speaking clearly. “No, this is my first time,” Yuuri said, flushing a deep crimson at the way the dancer’s lips quirked up in the corner. The euphemism was quickly understood and Yuuri’s cheeks bloomed even darker.

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Viktor replied, reaching a gloved hand down and cupping the man’s cheek. It was a small breach of conduct, but he didn’t allow it to stop him. “Enjoy the rest of the show, I certainly hope to see you at the stage door.” Viktor breathed, letting his thumb caress the man’s swollen lower lip gently. He watched for a moment as the man’s head spun before slowly moving away to retrieve more drinks, as Christophe’s routine neared its end.

He wasn’t _supposed_ to grease clients’ palms with promises of post-show misbehavior… but he could perhaps make an exception, for such a beautifully green man and his schoolboy’s pocketbook.

Yuuri choked on nothing as he imagined what on earth the man could possibly imply; Phichit’s mouth was far too preoccupied with the bulge in the dancer’s trousers to provide Yuuri with any helpful feedback. Yuuri fidgeted in his seat, shifting from one leg to the other as he watched the man in black writhe on the stage, rolling his hips obscenely against the chair in a way that surely had Phichit hot under the collar.

Yuuri himself could think of nothing other than the way the man’s crimson lips had pursed, curled up in a wicked smile, his chest on such full display… _god_. Yuuri considered making use of the facilities, eager to relieve himself some, though he couldn’t imagine what kind of scene he would make if he did so in such a public restroom. His scent alone would prove to be embarrassing enough. Especially for poor Phichit, who had brought him here.

So Yuuri remained uncomfortably in his seat, clamping down on his arousal and clapping appropriately when the performer was finished, turning to see Phichit’s cheeks burning dark and ruddy.

“Phichit,” Yuuri whispered in the dark between performances, “What does ‘the stage door’ mean?” he hissed quickly, leaned over into his closest friend’s ear. Phichit nearly choked on his drink, staring back at Yuuri as if he had grown a second head.

 _“What?”_ he snapped back, “Where did you hear that?” he asked, his hand covering his mouth as if he had been surprised by the sound he had made.

“I… ah, Snow,” Yuuri stammered, taken aback by Phichit’s reaction. “He said it to me while… Jack, was it? Was on stage…” Yuuri replied, suddenly feeling very embarrassed, for no other reason for the shit-eating grin growing wider and wider on Phichit’s face.

“Oh my god, Yuuri.” Phichit squeaked, and Yuuri nearly called for another cigarette, simply to calm his nerves. “He invited you to meet him at the stage door?” Yuuri nodded, rubbing his temples gently. “ _Yuuri_ , he invited you to visit _privately_.”

Yuuri nearly ascended from the physical world then, his soul escaping his body through the chasm of his shocked open mouth. “I… we can’t, he doesn’t… chaperone?” Yuuri stuttered, feeling every possible human emotion in rapid succession. “We can’t, no, we can’t,” he repeated, making Phichit laugh heartily.

“Of course you can! Yuuri, you’re wound tighter than a five-cent watch,” Phichit set his hand on his shoulder, pressing him into his seat. Yuuri had barely noticed he was half out of the armchair, clinging tightly to the armrests. “Listen. You need someone to relieve the stress between your eyebrows, friend. And between your legs as well. Lord knows you haven’t had a decent lay in a while.”

 _“Phichit!”_ Yuuri exclaimed, having half a mind to clap his hand over Phichit’s running mouth. “You’ll start rumors, you horrid gossip.” Yuuri felt his heartbeat hammering higher as Phichit merely wiggled his eyebrows playfully at him in reply. “Phichit, I’m a man of relative status, I can’t… I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, but you _can_.” Phichit purred, nodding toward the rising curtain, revealing Snow in that corset and feathered skirt, barely concealing the curve of supple asscheeks from the slightly lower angle of the audience seats. “And you _should._ ”

Yuuri’s mouth ran dry as the band played something fast-paced and dizzying, the dancer on stage contorting his form in impossibly quick movements and gestures, making Yuuri feel some kind of vertigo, though perhaps it was only the sudden burst of pheromones filling his nose.

He realized, distantly, that they were his own, and at every opportunity, Snow turned to meet Yuuri’s eye. He felt pinned down by the attention, his breath stolen from his chest as if his inner alpha had already found its mate, and would not allow Yuuri to look away.

 _Continue watching me,_ Yuuri said with his eyes, feeling a terrible surge of possessiveness, of jealousy, of alphan want coursing through him. _Continue watching me, only me, never look away._

Viktor felt something flutter in his core at the intensity of the man’s gaze. Earlier it had been playful, fun to imagine loosening a fool’s purse strings, but now… oh, now, Viktor would not settle for his money. He craved his attention, his gaze, his _everything_ , his _anything._ Viktor was panting and sweating by the time he was finished with his routine, as always, the number so fast-paced it made him light-headed. His hair clung to the nape of his neck and he thanked god he had possessed the good sense to request an early end to his stage time that night.

With a fluttered wink thrown over his shoulder at the man in the front row, he made his way off the stage and to Georgi, informing him that he’d be making use of one of the upstairs suites. Georgi smirked.

“Is it that poor boy with the glasses?” he asked with a playful smirk, and Viktor nodded.

“Meet him at the door, will you? And send him up to me?” Viktor asked in return; Georgi was the trusted keeper of stage door interactions, and Viktor trusted the man with his life. Georgi nodded and waved him off, and Viktor hurried to the dressing room and slipped into one of his sheer dressing gowns.

* * *

Yuuri’s hand was shaking when he raised it to knock at the red stage door, the other gripping his cane tightly. He cursed himself for bringing such an object with him, knowing he might have drank himself too silly to remember it or lose it in the stumble back to the dormitory.

He knocked sharply, and the door swung open as if it had been anticipating it. A friendly-looking man met him, though his deep blue eyes were piercing as he was given a quick once-over. His dark hair was styled in an absurd, pointed manner, something that Yuuri had never seen before.

“Snow is waiting for you upstairs, in room three.” The man said with a soft smile, though he felt no less examined as he passed through the doorway, heading in the direction the man and his hair pointed. Yuuri made his way up the wooden stairs backstage, passing a few performers assembling their colors, closed doors with raucous conversations about missing shoes happening beyond, and more than a few people in various states of half-dressed.

Yuuri flushed at the sight of two pairs of bared breasts, two performers helping each other into a matching pair of corsets. He turned his head quickly and made for the door marked with a red three, knocking once and waiting for a slow purred,

_“Enter.”_

Yuuri swallowed thickly and pushed the door open, finding the silver-haired siren draped artfully over a daybed, his long hair pooling around him like molten platinum. He was wearing little more than the thinnest dressing gown Yuuri had ever seen, a sheer white material settled over his body like a fine layer of… well… snow.

“In or out, darling, no one likes a loiterer.” Viktor teased, reaching for his cigarette and taking a long drag of it. The smoke floated aimlessly through the air and out through the cracked window. The man shuffled in quickly, closing the door behind him, never once taking his eyes off his chest.

“Sorry,” Yuuri breathed, the sight of him utterly breathtaking. “You’re an incredible dancer,” he complimented, feeling utterly dumbfounded, despite the roaring need under his skin.

Viktor laughed softly. “Why thank you, dear,” he answered, slowly pulling himself upright and patting the cushion beside him. “Join me? I’d love to have a closer look at you.”

Yuuri moved slowly, leaning his cane against the wall and finding his seat next to the performer, his legs gracefully tucked beneath his rear, the arm holding up his cigarette bent with the perfectly calculated angularity of a marble sculpture.

“Thank you for inviting me to speak with you privately.” Yuuri said, breathing in the cinnamon and licorice flavor of the smoke in the air, wondering if it was perhaps a means to mask the man’s natural scent. Yuuri craved to know what his true scent was, and felt his alpha growing more insistent on finding out as time passed.

“I’m happy to indulge in good company, darling,” Viktor purred, offering the man his cigarette, which he gladly took, breathing a deep drag. His horribly filthy mind wandered to how else those lips might be put to use… wrapped around his nipples, slotted against his own mouth. Or perhaps even dipping into the territory between his legs.

Viktor shuddered, masking it with a laugh. “You said this was your first time… did you mean your first time here, or your first time to a show of this sort?” Viktor asked, leaning even closer to his guest, pulling again at the cigarette before handing it back.

“Both, I suppose,” Yuuri replied, certainly excited at how close Snow was to himself. “It was certainly a first to remember.”

Viktor hummed, the sound hinging on a purr; he was almost shocked at the sound itself, after having gone so long without that purely omegan rumble in his chest. He couldn’t recall the last time he had purred in front of a customer, or even felt so comfortable as to share a cigarette with one. He longed to chase the smoke pooling from his mouth with his own, though soon, the cherry had faded, the end snubbed out in the ashtray before them.

“Would you like another…?” Viktor asked, leading the man to share his name as he reached for his silver tin of cigarettes.

“Oh, Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri,” Yuuri replied, flushing at the thought that he had just given a stranger his full name. “And yes, please.” he nodded, and Snow pulled another thin smoke from his box. “They’re lovely, they taste nice.” It was when the man leaned back toward Yuuri that he was given a whiff of something different, something like vanilla, and dusky like roses.

“Thank you, I’m quite particular about them.” Viktor said with a smile, proud that someone had complimented his personalized mixture and the flavor of his wrapping papers. He flicked a match to life and watched the smoke begin to rise. “Yuuri. That’s a lovely name.”

“Mm, thank you,” Yuuri allowed himself to sink deeper into the daybed, the tension easing slightly as Snow held the cigarette to his lips. Something brave sparked in him, and he wrapped a careful hand around his wrist, holding his hand in place as he took a pull. He could feel the gland under his skin, the scent gland there that held its own unique olfactory brand. As Yuuri blew out the smoke, he twisted his hand gently, upturning the pale flesh to his inspection.

“May I?” Yuuri asked softly, turning to see a flushing omega at his side nod silently. Yuuri smiled and pressed his nose tenderly to his wrist, inhaling deeply that scent of rosy vanilla. “Oh… _oh, how divine,_ ” Yuuri whispered, his words reverent against his skin.

Viktor felt a pang of something heady coiling in him, his inner omega leapt at the thought of an alpha paying him such tender attention. He muffled a moan with the end of his cigarette, and watched as this _Yuuri_ continued to scent him. Every soft, huffed breath against his skin felt like flame licking at his flesh.

“May I?” Viktor asked, setting the half-finished smoke in the ashtray. Yuuri nodded gently, his eyes widening as Viktor crawled into his lap and tucked into the small space between his shoulder and his ear, nosing at that most tender gland at the joining of his neck and shoulder. The one bonded mates marked.

Yuuri pulled in a sharp breath, unable to contain the sound of surprise. “S-Snow, _oh,_ ” he moaned softly as an inquisitive tongue darted out, a wet stripe licked over his throat.

“Viktor, please.” Viktor whispered, sharing his given name with the man as arousal thrummed in his veins. He nearly became drunk on the way Yuuri moaned his name immediately, his hands still being held at his sides. “Yuuri… you may touch me, if you’d like.”

Yuuri’s hands rose slowly, though they shook. Viktor smiled and grabbed him by the wrists, setting both of his hands on the dips of his waist. The thought pervaded, that Yuuri was breaking some kind of rule, being so sexual with a dancer, but oh, how amazing his attention felt. He could feel warm flesh through his dressing gown, the slight quiver in his hips as he scented him.

Yuuri smelled like cinnamon and sun-warmed mahogany, flawlessly aged whiskey. Oh, it drove Viktor mad, the way Yuuri’s scent thickened with every kiss to his skin, every tiniest hitched breath had Viktor greedily chasing for more.

Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from that tiny scrap of underthings Viktor was wearing, and Yuuri could barely keep himself from touching the waistband of it, slipping his fingers underneath it. Viktor gasped, and Yuuri froze in place.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask if I could--”

“Please… don’t stop,” Viktor breathed, rocking his hips back into Yuuri’s hands. He loosened the waist of his robe and it fell around him, pooling in Yuuri’s lap and baring more flesh to Yuuri’s eyes. Viktor arched his back as Yuuri’s hands smoothed over his thighs, his core clenched with anticipation as he felt something twitch in Yuuri’s trousers.

Yuuri hooked his fingers into the strap of Viktor’s drawers and gently pulled them down, his half-hard cock exposed between them. It was smaller than his own, as expected for an omega, but god, how Yuuri longed to wrap his mouth around it.

“Oh… Viktor…” Yuuri moaned at the sight, watching as Viktor hardened and twitched with the praise. “May I touch you here?”

Viktor was barely able to squeak out his consent before Yuuri was shifting them both to the floor; Viktor thanked his past self for imploring Yakov to install plush rugs in these suites. Yuuri pinned him to the floor in a fluid movement that was so undeniably alphan it made Viktor shudder in his deepest center. He savored the sensation of being trapped, it he was trapped by such a commanding presence as Yuuri.

Yuuri licked his lips without thinking, staring at the smeared crimson lipstick on that lush mouth. “May I kiss you?”

Viktor laughed, the sound coming out a garbled moan and a whine in one. “I’m already nude beneath you and you’re asking if you can kiss me?” Viktor teased, lifting one thigh slightly and pressing it between Yuuri’s legs. The reaction was immediate, a low, rumbling growl and a snap of his hips forward as he ground into Viktor’s flesh. “Kiss me, Yuuri.” He directed, and Yuuri moved without hesitation, overwhelming Viktor’s senses with greedy lips and tongue.

Viktor moaned into the kiss as Yuuri reached between them, fumbling with the fastening of his trousers. The persistent press of his cock against the inside of his pants was utterly mouth-watering, but seeing the member itself, Viktor thought he might surely perish a happy man. He felt himself growing wetter between his cheeks, his slick beginning to ease the way for that cock to sheath itself within him, to spear him open and drive into him mercilessly.

Yuuri wrapped his hand around himself once he was free, his pants pooling around his knees as he bucked into his own fist. Viktor was writhing below him, and his alpha growled hungrily at the undeniable scent of slick in the air.

“Turn over,” Yuuri directed, easing Viktor onto all fours, his ass high in the air as Yuuri knelt behind him. His hole was perfect, shining with slick and twitching, furled muscle so ready to be plundered. Yuuri moved with a fervor, palming both of Viktor’s asscheeks and spreading them apart as he leaned in. He blew a hot breath across the omega’s heated skin, and Yuuri savored the whimper he earned in reply. That sound quickly turned into a sob of pleasure as Yuuri laved his tongue greedily over his hole, lapping up the slick that had begun to leak out.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasped, rocking backward into that wet stimulation, need wracking on need. “Yuuri please, more, inside,” he begged, distantly laughing at himself for his loss of control. But oh, it felt incredible.

Yuuri hummed against his skin and pressed himself in, opening Viktor’s body with his tongue in a way that threatened to pull Viktor over the edge right then. Without thinking, Yuuri lifted a hand to Viktor’s cock, the weeping head of him dripping milky seed into the carpet below them. His other hand still rested on Viktor’s ass, but fingertips began to inch closer and closer to his hole, intent on stuffing him full of himself.

Viktor cried out at the sudden stimulation to his cock, Yuuri’s hand was warm and perfect against him. How many times had he taken himself in hand and brought himself even a comparable pleasure? He found himself gasping Yuuri’s name ad nauseum, bucking into his hand as a finger, then two prodded at his hole as Yuuri sloppily fucked him with his tongue. It was so much, nearly too much.

“Yuuuri, p-please, I’m going to--” Viktor began, his chest heaving as Yuuri’s fingers pushed into him, easily finding that spot within him. _“Yuuri!”_ he screamed, his body ringing like a bell as he orgasmed.

Seed spilled into Yuuri’s hand as slick smeared on his face when Viktor found his bliss, and Yuuri could barely withhold a pleased smirk. He had done this to Viktor, he had pushed him this far. He pulled his hand away from Viktor’s cock slowly, shamelessly wiping the spend off on his trousers.

Viktor fell forward onto his front, his thighs quivering in the aftershocks. “I surely hope you’re not finished,” Viktor huffed, arching trembling hips backward in presentation. “And you didn’t take that out of your pants merely to show it off.”

Yuuri laughed, a throaty, husky thing as his cock twitched at the mention of it, as if it had a mind of its own and enjoyed the acknowledgment. “Please don’t worry about such a thing as me being finished.” Viktor was a sight, on his knees like this, but he had every intention of watching those flawless features become lost in pleasure this time.

Viktor shuddered at the implication of Yuuri’s words and yelped softly as Yuuri maneuvered him onto his back, his thighs spread. “Such rough handling… and here I assumed a scholar would be a gentleman.” he joked, feeling himself grow even more excited at the full sight of Yuuri. He was still in his tailcoat and trousers, the only flesh divulged was his cock, hard and proud between his legs.

Viktor performed for clothed men mostly nude every night, but this, oh, god, was this different. He threw his head back and whimpered as Yuuri slid in closer, the material of his trousers rubbing against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“Oh, but I am a gentleman,” Yuuri purred, easily sinking two fingers into Viktor’s hole again, quickly adding a third. “I made sure you finished first, and I promise you’ll finish last.” Yuuri felt his alpha surge forward at the lewd, wet sound of Viktor’s hole clenching around his fingers and the utterly blissed expression on Viktor’s face, his mouth open and moaning wantonly as Yuuri pressed up into his prostate.

“Yuuri, please,” Viktor panted, salivating at the very sight of Yuuri’s cock, so red and thick and _tempting._ “Fuck me.”

Yuuri chewed on his lower lip as he withdrew his fingers and slicked himself up with what was left behind on his skin and what had collected between Viktor’s cheeks. Viktor gasped as the thick head of Yuuri pressed into his body, spreading him open in the most perfect way imaginable. Viktor wrapped desperately around Yuuri as he pushed in deeper, clamoring for something to ground him as Yuuri’s length threatened to split him in two.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Yuuri cursed, the tight heat of Viktor’s ass around him had his head spinning, the bite of his fingernails pressing into his back stung even through his clothing. “You’re so tight and wet...” he moaned, slowly rolling himself into Viktor, allowing his partner to feel every inch of him.

“And you’re… _blyad_ , you’re so big,” Viktor gasped, it felt like Yuuri was pushing up into his stomach for how large his cock was, shifting his very insides around just to accommodate such a girth. The ache of his rim being opened was only an afterthought to the sensation of Yuuri’s cock striking that spot, sending a tingling shockwave through him, as if he had been struck by lightning.

“Viktor,” Yuuri moaned as he pressed himself in fully, his groin meeting Viktor’s, though separated by his trousers. The idea was utterly erotic, taking Viktor apart while fully clothed, but oh, he ached to feel the warmth of his omega against his bare skin.

“Alpha,” Viktor replied, his vision blurring as his omega began to take control; he rolling his hips languidly to encourage Yuuri to move, the thick intrusion of his cock felt like lead inside him, hot and heavy. “Claim me,” he moaned without thinking, and Yuuri snapped into action.

Yuuri snapped his hips forward, the hearty thud of himself against Viktor made both of them moan. Yuuri began slow, dragging himself in and out of Viktor’s body as easily as waves on the shore. The pace was soon broken by Viktor’s pleas for more, his thighs wrapping around Yuuri’s back, his ankles locking together behind him.

“Faster,” Viktor gasped desperately, _“Fuck me faster,”_ he emphasized, and Yuuri knew he couldn’t resist.

He fucked into Viktor with sloppy abandon, Viktor’s hole squelched wetly around him as Yuuri pounded fervently into him. Their movements had the crystals decorating the lampshade in the corner clattering against one another, but neither of them heard the noise over the obscene sounds of their lovemaking.

Yuuri felt his core fluttering in that telltale way as Viktor’s grip around him grew tighter. The leather of his shoes bit into Yuuri’s back as he clung to him, but every ounce of pain was completely forgotten as his knot began to swell and catch on Viktor’s rim. Viktor noticed and soon his moans were squeaking whines being pushed out of his chest without his control, any request to be filled with Yuuri’s knot, his seed, utterly forgotten on his tongue.

Yuuri growled low in his throat as his orgasm rushed toward him. “Do you want my knot?” he asked breathlessly, “Would you like that, Viktor? I can fill you up, oh, you’ll look perfect knotted,” Yuuri babbled, barely aware of what he was saying. Viktor relished in the filthy talk, his omega only getting more riled up at the thought of being bred and filled, hanging off Yuuri’s knot like a toy.

In the absence of any ability to speak, Viktor nodded, tears pearling in his eyes as Yuuri ducked down to his throat, his lips ghosting over his scent gland. Yuuri closed his mouth around the tender flesh and sucked, and Viktor let loose a garbled scream as pleasure overwhelmed him.

Yuuri’s knot caught as he came, the silky walls of Viktor’s body milked him for all he had. Their shared orgasm lasted for what felt like an eternity. A slippery mess of come smeared on Viktor’s stomach and Yuuri’s lips wrapped around his scent gland, it was nearly enough to trigger an early heat, though he wasn’t due for another few months.

Perhaps he could invite Yuuri to share his next season with him, Viktor thought, half-lucid in the blissful afterglow of their coupling.

Yuuri’s chest heaved as he slowly came back to himself, though the loud, pleased purr of Viktor below him, his hole fluttering around him, his disheveled hair and ruined makeup pulled another spurt of come from him, filling Viktor again. He was so unbelievably gorgeous, Yuuri wondered how on Earth he had become so lucky as to bed a man like Viktor.

Viktor swiped his hand languidly through the mess on his stomach, clearing it away and pulling Yuuri down into him. His knot still inflated and locked inside him, he craved closeness, and especially Yuuri’s closeness. It felt right, to be here with him, despite the breaking of a handful of his own rules when it came to clients.

The sex was certainly worth it.

Viktor nosed at Yuuri’s throat again, happily basking in the protective, soothing blanket of pheromones Yuuri released as they floated back to the ephemeral plane. Yuuri was covering him in an invisible layer of himself, and Viktor wished to wear it like a second skin. Yuuri’s alpha rumbled happily at its omega, and Viktor responded in kind, with a chirping purr that made Yuuri smile so wide his cheeks would ache for the rest of the night.

“You did so well,” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor lavished in the praise. “Such a beautiful omega. Perfect.” The words fell from his tongue without any of the stilted shyness that plagued him in everyday dealings. He tucked an errant strand of silver hair behind Viktor’s ear and leaned in for a soft kiss.

“You were amazing as well, Yuuri.” Viktor croaked, his voice shaky. “I’ve never had a better lay.”

Yuuri felt a wave of heat and pride roll over him. “Good,” he answered, and Viktor’s eyes widened for a moment.

Viktor purred happily, arching his back and gasping as Yuuri’s knot slipped free, a cascade of seed spilling onto the floor. “Oh, _Yakov’ll have my head,”_ he cursed under his breath, shifting away from the wet spot on the rug. “I don’t suppose you’d like to clean this up?” he asked, and Yuuri arched his brow.

“Are you asking me to claim the cream from its source?” Yuuri asked, his cheeks hot at the idea. Viktor blushed too, shifting to his knees.

“Only if you’d enjoy such a thing.” he replied softly, whimpering when Yuuri curled his finger toward himself. He stood on wobbly knees and Yuuri sat on the couch again. “How do you want me?”

Yuuri wrapped firm hands around his hips and turned him away, setting a warm hand in the small of his back. Viktor went as the hands directed, folding himself in half in front of Yuuri, who wasted no time in lapping at his own spend as it trickled from Viktor’s hole.

“Ah, Y-Yuuri,” Viktor moaned, his spent cock twitching in a meager effort to harden again. “S-s-sensitive,” he whimpered, his rim still tender. The sensation wasn’t enough to bring him to orgasm again, but he’d never forget how Yuuri’s tongue gently cleaned him, gently swept over his tender skin. Yuuri chased the taste of himself mixed with Viktor’s sweet slick, and the combined flavor was odd, but addicting.

“I’ve always wondered what I taste like,” Yuuri muttered under his breath, flushing dark red.

“You’ve never been curious?” Viktor laughed softly, his voice garbled by his purr. “My Yuuri is quite the enigma. Jealous, competitive… and yet has never tasted himself. Not even out of curiosity.” he teased, and Yuuri flushed at the possessive my.

He nodded. “I usually utilize my curiosity in the lecture hall, not the bedroom… I’m not top of my class for no reason, Viktor.” he replied in jest, and Viktor hummed, impressed.

“Accomplished, driven, skilled in lovemaking, and an alpha to top it all off…” Viktor purred, “How is such an ideal man single?”

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair and laughed sheepishly. “Well… I’m not precisely the type to seek companionship… I’m horribly shy.”

“I could tell, darling.” Viktor replied, feeling for the first time in a while that he may have found someone worth pursuing, after all these years alone. Makkachin was a lovely companion, but she couldn’t take the place of a mate.

Yuuri smiled and watched as Viktor slipped back into his tiny underthings, wrapped his dressing gown around himself again. He was so beautiful, Yuuri didn’t know if he could bear to never see him again.

“Viktor, I… I must see you again.” Yuuri admitted in a rush of breath, far quicker than he had intended it to be. “I… I apologize, that was rash of me--”

“Perhaps that could be arranged.” Viktor replied easily, throwing sweat-damp hair over his shoulder as he tied his robe in place. “I would certainly be interested in sharing your company again. Especially if it means I can savor such a wonderful endowment again.”

Yuuri stared at him for longer than was appropriate, though the slight smearing of his eye makeup had him utterly transfixed. Viktor laughed and picked up Yuuri’s cane from where it had been leaning against the wall, rolling the smooth dark wood between his hands.

“Can I count on your visit next Saturday?” Viktor purred, lifting the end of Yuuri’s cane and setting it firmly between the alpha’s legs, just inches from his groin.

Yuuri didn’t move an inch, pinned in place by his own cane in Viktor’s hands, and if that was not precisely how every moment in his presence had felt, Yuuri would never know a better description. “Yes, I will return on Saturday.”

Viktor smiled, that bright, playful thing that made Yuuri’s heart flip in his chest. “Yes, you will,” he answered, leaning down and pulling the soft blue handkerchief from Yuuri’s breast pocket and craning his neck to the side; he dabbed gently at his scent gland with the material, soaking it in his scent before folding it back up and tucking it back into Yuuri’s pocket. “I’ll see you then, Katsuki Yuuri.”

Viktor leaned out of Yuuri’s space without another word and relinquished his grip on the man’s cane, feeling his heart racing at the closeness. Yuuri stood on shaky legs and bowed deeply. “I’ll see you Saturday,” Yuuri said softly, lifting Viktor’s hand to his lips and kissing the gap between his first and second fingers. “Please… don’t take any other visitors.” Yuuri whispered, a truly jealous wish and he knew it.

“Oh Yuuri, I never do this.” Viktor answered truthfully, watching with pride as Yuuri’s features broke out in a wide grin. “Go along now, I’m sure you should be studying.”

Yuuri exhaled shakily and nodded, bowing again before disappearing through the open door, and as Viktor watched him go, they both wished Saturday would come soon.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave kudos and comments! i love hearing from you all! <3
> 
> ❤️ ia  
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